And a Time to Dance
by Karri
Summary: Taylor and Goldman must survive in the bush WITHOUT Zeke.


**"...And a Time to Dance"**

By Karri

Summary: Goldman and Taylor struggle in the bush without Zeke.

Disclaimer: Tour of Duty and its characters are the property of Zev Braun and New Line Productions. Written for entertainment purposes only and no money is being made. 

*****************

thwacka-thwacka-thwacka-thwacka

The chopper pilot glared impatiently at the SOG team gathered on the flight deck, and Sergeant Marcus Taylor smirked as Sgt. Anderson shrugged apologetically at the pilot. Zeke's brow wrinkled, and Taylor turned his attention toward the objects of Sarge's attention. Col. Brewster and Lt. Goldman were deep in conversation. Wasn't like Brewster to make last minute adjustments to a mission. Meant something was up, and it wasn't likely to be anything good.

"What's up, Sarge?" Taylor anxiously inquired, as softly as the chopper's ruckus would allow. 

Zeke shrugged his shoulders and glanced at the two men, again. Brewster's eyes flitted in their direction as the L-tee jogged toward Zeke. Taylor noticed the Sarge tensing up, and noticed that Myron had a funny look on his face. The L-tee put his hand on Zeke's shoulder as he came up to him, and Taylor moved out of ear-shot. He was dying to eavesdrop, but something was telling him that some serious shit had happened, and he should give the Sarge and L-tee some privacy. The L-tee didn't say much before giving Zeke's shoulder a squeeze and jogging over to Marcus. 

"L-tee?" 

"Anderson's off this one."

"What's going on, sir?"

Myron hesitated and Marcus figured he was gonna get left in the dark, but then the L-tee stepped closer.

"Carol's been killed in a car accident. They're sending Zeke home to take care of his kid."

Taylor swallowed hard as he digested the news. Wow! Poor Sarge! Marcus - well everybody - knew that Zeke still had feelings for Carol. This was gonna hit him hard. It was sure crappy timing, too. Poor guy was gonna have a lot to deal with. It was a drag that neither Marcus nor the L-tee'd be around to talk to. Shit! Sarge would be gone before they got back. Marcus wasn't gonna get to say goodbye. Damnit! That just wasn't right!

"Saddle up!"

Myron gave the signal to load up, and Taylor forced himself to shove the Sarge out of his thoughts as he boarded the chopper. Wouldn't do nobody no good if he got wasted cause he was distracted. Sure wouldn't help out the Sarge any. Zeke could go home knowing he'd left the L-tee in good hand. Marcus wasn't gonna let him down. The chopper lifted into the air, and Taylor gave his Sarge one last parting glance.

**************** 

Taylor gasped as he stumbled out of the mangled Huey and landed face first in the monsoon-swollen river. Damn! The water was freezing. He tried to keep himself moving toward the bank, but the strong current kept pulling him further down stream. Gluuuuug! Taylor gagged on a lungful of dingy water as his numb, weary limbs faltered, and the Sergeant found himself sucked under. Sputtering and coughing as he kicked his way back to the surface, he felt someone grab hold of him and yank him towards the bank. 

"Sarge! Sarge! We got ya! You're okay!"

Taylor, released unceremoniously in the mud, swiped a soggy hand across his face before shoving himself onto his feet to have a look around. Jaansen. Lopez. Metcalf...sitting in the mud, his face contorted with pain. 

"Metcalf?" 

"Leg, Sarge. Think its busted." 

Taylor nodded grimly. Terrific! Figured it would be the medic.

"Pilot? Co-pilot?" 

"Checked 'em on my way out," Jaansen explained. "Cockpit's....well, no chance they're alive, Sarge." 

"Door gunner?"

Jaansen shrugged, followed by Metcalf and Lopez. The L-tee'd been sitting in the doorway. He'd know what happened to the kid. Taylor shifted around to find Lt. Goldman. His gaze swept past Jaansen, Lopez, and Metcalf...that was it?! The L-tee must be behind him, Taylor turned back toward the river. Nothing. Something caught his eye. It floated up sporadically, not quite breaking the surface, but close enough to cause a ripple. Without waiting for his brain to catch up, his feet began carrying him back into the river. For the first time, the Sergeant noticed how deeply submerged the the mangled Huey was. It was a miracle they hadn't all drowned, but at least the water had cushioned the blow a little. Thump. Taylor flinched as his leg bumped into part of the submerged object. He crouched to get a better look. It took nearly a full minute to realize that the water-distorted shape was an arm. Taylor grabbed it and pulled, but it was stuck - barely broke the surface. That one glimpse was enough, though. Taylor gaped for a half a second at the limp, tiger-striped limb before panic kicked in.

"L-tee! L-tee!" the Sergeant shouted as he desperately pulled at the lifeless form pinned under the water. "Jaansen! Lopez! Get over here! Help me!" 

It only required a couple firm tugs to realize that the L-tee was pinned real good. Taylor dropped into the water, hoping to see what was holding him down. Damnit! It was the door gunner. The kid was pinned under the gun, which had wedged firmly into the river bottom. The L-tee's other arm and....it looked like...maybe...the lower part of his leg were pinned under the gunner. Taylor prayed his leg was pinned under the kid, cause otherwise it was under the chopper. No way he was gonna be able to budge the bird. Bursting out of the water, Taylor lunged at the submerged gun and began shoving and kicking it ferociously. The rest of Team Viking stared nervously as they watched their Sarge completely loose it. 

"Sarge!" Taylor whirled around, ready to attack, as he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Sarge! What are you doing!?"

"L-tee...gunner...pinned...under...gotta...move.. this...damn," the Sergeant panted out.

"It's no good, Sarge!" Jaansen insisted, struggling to keep himself upright as he pulled on his Sergeant's shoulder. "They're gone!"

Taylor shook the Spec 4 off. No way he was leaving the L-tee in this damn river - not after all Team Viking had been through. The two of them were all that was left. No way he was leaving him here. NO F-ING WAY! 

"Come on, Sarge!" Lopez joined his teammate, yanking on Taylor's other arm. "Ya ain't gonna get 'em loose! Come on!" 

"Not....leaving...him!" Taylor punched Lopez with his elbow, nearly sending the kid downstream. He shook Jaansen off his other arm and beat at the gun with renewed fervor.

Taylor lost his precarious balance and was nearly swept away himself as the gun suddenly shifted, releasing the trapped door gunner. The kid bobbed up to the surface and Taylor noticed the blood dissolving into the water around the kid's body. Jaansen flipped him over, and Taylor paused for an instant as he caught a glimpse of the diluted blood flowing freely from under the kid's helmet and from his mouth and nose. Damnit! 

"Get him out!" Marcus shouted to Jaansen as he tugged on Lt. Goldman.

"Sarge! The L-tee's still pinned. Must be under the bird. He's gone, Sarge! We gotta get moving!" Lopez vainly tried to convince his Sergeant, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. Taylor shoved the Spec 4 away. Lopez, too exhausted to continue fighting both the river and his Sergeant, reluctantly swam back to shore. 

Aaaaaaarrrrrrrrgh! Taylor pulled on his L-tee again, putting everything he had left into the effort. He felt resistance, but then the L-tee was free. Kicking blindly backwards, Taylor somehow found himself on the muddy bank clinging to the limp body of his Lieutenant. 

****************

"Myron?! Myron?! Time to wake up!" 

Myron heard the insistent voice as it filtered through the thick blanket of oblivion that had wrapped itself around him - so warm and peaceful. He didn't WANT to wake up. 

"Myron! WAKE UP!"

The voice became more insistent, but still Myron resisted. Why couldn't Mama let him sleep just a little longer? He was soooo tired. Myron thought about pulling the blanket over his head to muffle her intruding voice, but his arms were too heavy. So, instead, he snuggled deeper into warmth surrounding him. Maybe if he just ignored her, Mama would go away and let him sleep. 

"MYRON GOLDMAN! WAKE UP THIS INSTANT!"

"Yes, mama," Myron muttered incoherently as he finally, reluctantly, pulled himself towards consciousness. 

**************** 

"L-tee?! L-tee?! You with us, man!" 

Taylor'd just completed another rescue breath when he heard a faint sound come from the officer. Now the Sergeant found himself frozen, his mouth still only centimeters from his Lieutenant's as he waited, praying that it hadn't been just wishful thinking. 

Myron's whole body seemed to fight against him as he struggled to open his eyes. Everything felt heavy, worn out....and *cold.* Man! Cold seemed to be soaking into every ounce of him, all the way to the core of his bones. Thick, wet, unbearably bright air assaulted him as he pulled farther and farther away from his peaceful oblivion. The heavy, hot air pressed against his body, intensifying the general bruised aching that seemed to radiate from everywhere. Myron wondered how he could be so cold, when the air around him threatened to smother him with sweltering heat. He gasped, taking

in a deep enough breath to allow him to moan as he exhaled.

"L-tee?!" Relief swept through Taylor as he saw his L-tee's chest rise and he heard the officer moan. 

Myron's eyes fluttered open and darted around for a moment before fixing on the Sergeant. What? Where? Who? Uuuuuugh! The air was thick. It made him feel heavy, made him hurt. It was cold - too cold to get up. He'd stay under the warm blankets for just a few more minutes. Mama wouldn't shout again. She'd come into his room to wake him. He'd just sleep until then - just a few more minutes. He was so tired and the dream he'd been having was warm and peaceful. He'd just rest there a little longer. Myron's eyes slowly closed as he let himself sink back into the blissful peace of oblivion. 

"L-tee?!" Taylor tried to rouse the officer, but there was no response. He hesitantly glanced at the L-tee's chest and was relieved to see it was still rising and falling. 

"Metcalf?!"

"Probably shock, Sarge. Could be out for hours."

Shit! 

"Jaansen, find the radio?" 

"Musta gone down the river, Sarge!"

Damnit! F-ing newbies! Kid shoulda had it on - shouldn't of gotten out that bird without it. Oh well. Stupid kid woulda probably have drowned with it on his back, and they'd have been down one more man AND the radio. There was no point wasting energy griping about it. Radio was gone. At least they were only a few klicks over the fence. It wouldn't take too long, even in their condition, to get back into Nam, and the AO they would be headed into had plenty of friendly activity. They'd find someone to call 'em in a Dust-off. 

"Sarge!" Taylor looked in the direction of the shout as Lopez hustled over. 

"Got some movement. Headed this way."

"Get a look at how many?" Taylor queried.

"Didn't get a good look, Sarge," Lopez responded, shaking his head. "Weren't NVA, though. Definitely VC, and a lot of 'em."

Taylor nodded grimly. It had only been a matter of time before somebody came searching for the downed bird. They'd better boogy out of there quick. Shit! Taylor squinted into the black stormclouds as a large raindrop plopped onto his face. F-ing terrific!

"I got the L-tee. Jaansen, you take Metcalf. Lopez, on point," Marcus instructed, "and watch what you're doing. You trip a wire - ain't got nobody left to haul your butt outa here. Got it?" 

"Yeah, I got it, Sarge," Lopez grumbled as he turned to help Jaansen get Metcalf up.

Taylor ignored Lopez's grumbling, and Metcalf's swearing, as he focused on getting the L-tee up and over his shoulder. Damn! The Lieutenant didn't look that big, but man, he sure was heavy. Marcus hoped the L-tee snapped out of it soon so he didn't have to haul the officer's butt all the way home. Hoo-lee shit! The Sarge sure picked a hell of a time to get sent home.

"Move out!" Taylor shouted, seeing that Metcalf and Jaansen were ready to move.

******************

The rain steadily increased its intensity as they mucked through jungle. Drenched and exhausted, the group had less than four klicks to show for the two grueling hours they'd been moving. It was an agonizing pace, and Taylor reluctantly gave up the hope of continuing until nightfall.

"All right, Sarge?" Lopez anxiously inquired as he waited for Taylor to inspect that spot the kid had chosen for their bivouac - a dense thicket of trees covering a shallow rise. 

"We'll rotate watches. Two awake, one asleep. Lopez, you and I will go first," Sarge anounced, signalling his approval. "Metcalf, how ya doin' man?

"Doin' all right, Sarge." 

Taylor gave him an encouraging pat on his shoulder as Jaasen set the Spec4 down next to the L-tee. The kid obviously wasn't doing all right. He'd been looking steadily worse since they'd started moving. Taylor hoped the night's rest would help the kid out. The deluge sure wasn't gonna. Damn! It was infuriating to be so helpless. 

"Jaansen, get some sleep," Taylor forced himself to focus on what he could do, instead of what was out of his control. 

Jaasen nodded. His expression full of relief, he collapsed onto the ground next to Metcalf and quickly dozed off. 

"Metcalf, keep an eye on the L-tee," Taylor requested, making eye contact with the kid. He hated leaving one wounded man to care for another, but they were just too short handed to do it any other way.

"Yeah, Sarge. Don't worry. I'll take good care of him."

Taylor nodded and moved away. Settling into a spot with a good view of the surrounding hill, he prepared himself for the long night. He sure hoped he was making the right decisions. Man! It was tough being in charge. He sure wished Sarge was with them.

******************

Taylor startled awake as a hand touched his shoulder. He was relieved to see that the rain had stopped. The first week rays of dawn where lighting the dreary clouds. It was time to move. Without the rain, the going ought to be a little faster. He jumped up, noticing immediately that Jaansen, Lopez, and even Metcalf, were ready to move. They'd obviously been up for a while but hadn't woken him. Taylor felt a twinge of guilt. Sarge would have been the first man awake, assuming he slept at all. Man! Sarge's boots were awfully hard to fill. Taylor pushed his failing to the back of his mind and moved over to the still unconscious Lt. Goldman.

"L-tee! L-tee! Wake up, man! Time to move out," Taylor prodded the officer, but there was no response. Damn! He'd hoped that, after a full night's sleep, the L-tee would snap out it. Marcus almost groaned at the thought of carrying the officer again.

"All right! Let's move," Taylor ordered gruffly, reluctantly hoisting his c.o. over his shoulder. 

*******************

Thud! Myron groaned softly as he was flopped onto the muddy ground. Taylor quickly threw his hand over the L-tee's mouth. They'd only been moving for about forty minutes, but Taylor's spent all of it praying his L-tee'd wake up. It figured the officer would finally do it within earshot of a band of VC. Myron's eyes fluttered open again and darted around until his gaze met Taylor's. The Sergeant saw no signs of recognition in the L-tee's eyes. He looked imploringly into the bewildered stare, praying the officer'd understand that he had to stay still and QUIET. The eyes darted away as Myron began to struggle against the hand held over his mouth. 

"Oh man! Please o' please o'please, L-tee," Taylor thought to himself. "Not now! Just wait till the VC get past. Just a few minutes, L-tee."

The Sergeant managed to squirm onto the Lieutenant without letting his hand slip off the officer's mouth. Using his body to stifle the officer's movement, Taylor put a finger of his free hand to his lips - hoping his half-conscious L-tee would understand he HAD to be QUIET.

"Myron! Settle down! Enough of this fussing! Just lie still and keep quiet." 

Myron froze as Mama's voice scolded him. He couldn't remember why he was suppose to be quiet. Uuuuugh! It was hard to think with the awful weight on his chest - made it hard to breath. He was hot and sticky, and his body felt heavy, like Mama was sitting on him. He must be sick. That must be why he was supposed to lie still and keep quiet. Mama didn't like it when he was sick and he fussed. He didn't like when Mama's scolded him, so he'd just close his eyes and pretend he was asleep. 

Taylor nearly sighed with relief as his L-tee stopped struggling and closed his eyes again. He didn't much look forward to continuing to carry the officer, but it was better than getting nabbed by the VC. Leaving his hand resting lightly on Myron's mouth, Taylor eased himself over a little so that he was only partially resting on the officer - then he froze as a parade of sandled feet began to pass. He could feel the sweat trickling down his forehead as his already-racing heart shifted into a higher gear. His ears picked up the chirping as a couple of the VC exchanged a few quick words. Then it was back to the nearly silent plodding of footsteps slowly fading away.

Taylor lay still a few seconds more to be certain before he released the breath he hadn't really been aware he was holding. Making eye contact with Lopez, he signaled the point man to get 'em moving again. Then he looked down at the L-tee and slid away the hand that he'd forgotten that he'd placed over the officer's mouth. Myron's eyes flew open as he did. 

"L-tee?!" Taylor whispered.

Myron focused on the sound of the voice. It wasn't Mama's voice. Wasn't the General's. He couldn't place it at all, yet it was somehow soothingly familiar. His brain wrestled between identifying the voice and slipping away from the unpleasantness of consciousness. 

Taylor decided to take the Lieutenant's lack of response as a good sign, even if the eyes didn't seem to recognize him. The man wasn't struggling anymore - that had to be a good sign. Easing him up, Taylor was further relieved when the L-tee stayed on his feet, although he leaned heavily on Marcus. It was progress, and Taylor felt a little tickle of hope in his gut. He'd been sure he wasn't gonna make it much farther hauling the Lieutenant over his shoulder, but this he could do. Metcalf had been looking little better, but he was starting to look real bad. Jaansen'd be carrying him over his shoulder soon, but he could switch off with Lopez. They'd be all right. Lopez had good eyes on him, though. Taylor wasn't so sure about Jaansen. He'd keep Lopez on point as long as he could. 

"Sarge?!" Taylor flinched as he heard the shaky, almost pleading whine. 

"Doesn't sound good, L-tee," Taylor confided in the officer as they hobbled in the direction of Jaansen and Metcalf. He knew Myron was still pretty out of it, but it felt better to be talking to him like he was okay. He WAS gonna be okay. The bewildered look in his eyes was just shock. The L-tee'd be back to his same old self in no time. He just HAD to be.

Taylor's thoughts abruptly shifted away from the L-tee as they neared Jaansen and Metcalf. The two men were frozen in place. Buckets of sweat dripped down Jaansen face as he struggled to maintain hold of a quickly wilting Metcalf. Taylor didn't have to ask to know what was up. Terrific! That was all they needed - a big boom to bring the VC right back.

"Sarge?!"

"All right. Don't move, man. Let me sit the L-tee down and I'll have look," Taylor tried to use the same soothing tones Sarge always managed when some kid was in a fix. "Just don't move. We'll get ya off the thing."

"Sarge?!" 

"Just stay still. I'll be right there."

"It's Metcalf, Sarge. He slipping."

Taylor dove for cover as he heard the click of a released pressure switch. The flash from the explosion slammed into his senses so solidly that he didn't even hear the KAAABLAAAAOOSH that accompanied it. Propelled further forward by the blast, the thick vines cut him as he whipped through them and slammed into the muddy ground. Marcus was dimly aware that he'd lost his hold on the L-tee. Damnit! It was his job to take care of the L-tee and he'd let go of him. Sarge was gonna kick his butt. Taylor hoped the L-tee was still too out of it to feel the hot bits of metal that would be burning into his flesh. It was Taylor's last thought as he slipped into blackness. 

*********************

"MYRON GOLDMAN! You're a Lieutenant in the United States Army AND MY SON! What the hell do you think you're doing laying down on the job??!!"

Myron flinched at the General's admonishing tones.

"You get up off the ground and lead your men! NOW! MOVE IT!"

Myron obeyed, painfully scrambling to his feet. He wobbled for a few seconds as he stood with his eyes closed and tried to force his scrambled brain to reorganize itself. Slowly opening his eyes and scanned the area around him. Metcalf and Jaansen, what was left of them anyway, were lying a dozen feet away. Shit! It must of been one hell of an explosion. Myron wondered how he'd managed to come out of it all right standing as close to the remains as he was. Almost as if cued by the thought, the fiery bits of shrapnel embedded in the inside of his left leg and in his right forearm and shoulder began to burn intensly. The sudden pain erased all other thoughts from his mind. Myron squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth against the searing agony.

"Buck up, soldier! You're a Goldman! Get over it and get back to your men. Come on! Don't let me down! LEAD, boy!"

Myron's eyes flew open as the General shouted at him. He twisted around, searching for his father, preparing to tell him once and for all to go to hell. The man didn't even care that his son was wounded! He was only worried about the family honor. Well, screw him! 

A flash of black moving quickly in his direction caught Myron's attention and he dove for cover, nearly landing on top his unconscious Sergeant. Myron shimmied into a position that would allow him to check for a pulse. It was there. He dropped his head on Taylor's shoulder as he breathed a silent sigh of relief. Then he froze as he heard the sound of Vietnamese voices. An AK-47 swished through the brush, searching for any hidden G.I.s. Myron held his breath as it drew closer and closer. Damnit! He should've been drawing his weapon instead of checking on Taylor. 

Suddenly there was a flurry of chirping voices and moving feet, and the searcher that was nearly upon him turned and joined his buddies as they began to fire at.....Myron couldn't see. He prayed it wasn't Lopez. The kid was already dead if it was. The black pajamas moved away as they chased after their prey, and Myron began to stealthily survey his Sergeants injuries. Taylor's calves were bleeding, but not a lot. Myron figured the Sergeant probably had some minor frag wounds, but that seemed to be all. The L-tee slowly turned the Sarge over onto his back to check for other wounds. He had a pretty nasty lump on his forehead, but nothing else visible. Myron slid his hand across Taylor's chest and abdomen to check for broken ribs and internal bleeding. The Sergeant's eyes fluttered open as Myron's hand reached his belly. Myron put a finger to his lips as he made eye contact with Taylor, then crept toward the edge of the bush. No sign of Charlie. He crept back to the Sergeant. 

"L-tee??!! You're all right!" Taylor whispered excitedly.

"Yeah! Never better," Myron responded sarcastically as he helped the Sergeant to a sitting position. 

Taylor opened his mouth to say more, but he was interrupted by a rustling in the bush in front of him. He realized as he reached for his rifle that he'd lost it somewhere. His apologetic eyes met Myron's as the L-tee pulled his pistol and turned towards the new arrival. They held their breath as they waited for a face to burst through the tangle of vines.

"Sarge! L-tee! You guys all right?" Lopez half-whispered as he stepped into the small clearing.

"Glad to see ya, Lopez. Where ya been?" Myron greeted.

"Turned back when I heard the explosion, but had to take cover when the VC showed up," the kid explained nervously as he wiped sweat from his face. 

"Was close enough to see you dive into the bush, L-tee. Man! Figured you'd had it when that dink started sweeping the area," the kid paused to shake his head disbelievingly. "Lucky for us that white-haired old man showed up and led the VC away. Shit! Looked like a General??!! In full dress uniform??!! What the hell's up with that, L-tee? Doesn't make any sense!" 

Taylor looked dubiously at the kid. The heat and exhaustion were obviously getting to him. The Sergeant shook his head and glanced at his L-tee. Taylor expected to see his own skeptisism reflected in his C.O.'s face, but instead Myron was looking thoughtfully at the mud in front on his boots. The Sergeant wondered if the L-tee was wandering back off into la-la land.

"L-tee?"

"Yeah," Myron roused from his reverie. 

"Can you walk?" He asked, abruptly directing his attention onto his Sergeant. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm all right. L-tee," Taylor responded, a little taken aback by the Lieutenant's sudden clarity.

"Good. Let's move out!" Myron ordered, then hesitated. Sheepishly making eye contact with Taylor again, he added, "We're where exactly, Sergeant?"

Taylor grinned as he stood as began to point out their location on the map the L-tee had pulled out. The bush beyond the remains of their buddies rustled, and the Sergeant dropped back down. He glanced at his companions as they joined him. What now??!! Footsteps neared the remains of Metcalf and Jaansen, then shuffled around the area.

"Damn it!" a clearly American voice wafted over the slight breeze. "We're too late. Looks like a good-sized bunch already swept the area. Any survivors are half-way to Hanoi by now." 

Myron edged closer to the voice. Finding a narrow peep hole through the vines, he could just make out a round-eyed face. Someone stepped in front of the guy, blocking him from Myron's view. Myron silently cussed. He wanted to be sure that man was American. He peeked through the vines again, and it dawned on him that the fellow blocking his view was a Yard. These guys were friendlies. Myron re-holstered his firearm and threw his hands in the air as he slowly rose. He didn't want to spook these guys and become a friendly-fire casualty seconds before being rescued. 

The groups of Yards and their Advisor simultaneously raised their weapons as they heard the rustling in the bush a few feet away. Myron held his breath as he lead his trio out into the dreary daylight. He relaxed as he saw the realization in the face of the Advisor that these were the American G.I.s he'd been looking for. He barked an order to his men, who were already lowering their weapons, and stepped forward to greet Myron. 

"Lt. Myron Goldman," the L-tee introduced himself, grinning broadly. "Man, are we glad to see some friendly faces."

"Maj. McClanahan," the Advisor responded, returning Myron's salute. "Nice to see you guys in one piece. I was starting to doubt we'd catch up to ya."

"Sgt. Marcus Taylor. Spec4 Lopez," the L-tee introduced his men.

"You guys look like you could use some patching up," the Major noted as he nodded acknowledgment of the two other men and glanced at Taylor and the L-tee's bloodstained uniforms.

"Any chance of calling us in a ride out of here, sir?" Myron asked.

"'Fraid not," the Major responded glumly. "Our radio battery died on us a couple hours after we got word to be on the lookout for you fellows. The backup battery's a piece of shit. Crapped out on us last night, so we're without communications. Got a chopper scheduled to drop off supplies day after tomorrow, though. Right now, we need to put some distance between us and that band of VC," he paused to point at the map he'd pulled out, "There's a friendly village here. We can patch ya up when we get there."

Myron nodded. He'd have preferred an immediate lift out of there, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Besides, they were still a lot better off than they'd been moments before. Perhaps he'd even manage to snag some decent intel to take home with him. The mission might not be a total loss.

"Gonna get us a little R&R, eh, L-tee," Taylor chimed in, grinning at the admonishing glare Myron responded with as the battered remainders of Team Viking turned to follow their rescuers towards food, bandages, and the relative safety of a friendly village.

The End

2/01


End file.
